


Six Inch Heels

by TheAsexualScorpio



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Smut, very light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 18:44:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8221117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAsexualScorpio/pseuds/TheAsexualScorpio
Summary: Jon's been avoiding Sansa all evening. Hurt and angry, she's certain it's because he's mad at her for wearing heels that make her taller than him. She's mistaken.Or...The one where Sansa wears six inch heels, and they make Jon subby as hell.





	

**Author's Note:**

> *"6 Inch" by Beyonce plays in the distance*

The elevator ride back to their apartment is silent. They've barely spoken the entire night, and Sansa _hates_ it. She hates Jon's loaded silence. She hates the tension between them, how it feels as tangible as a brick wall that's only getting thicker with each passing second. Most of all, she hates that Jon is so mad at her for such a _stupid_ reason. It makes her want to scream. Her eyes begin to sting, and she stares hard at the ceiling, trying to keep the tears at bay. She thought Jon was better than this, she truly did.

He never told her why he was so angry, but Sansa knew anyway. She knew the moment she stepped out of the bedroom before they left. He'd smiled at the sight of her loose red hair, and his gaze had traveled appreciatively over her strapless, black, cocktail dress, but when he saw her shoes—a pair of black, peep-toe Louboutins with a six inch heel—his face seemed to freeze. He'd only stared at her shoes, and she'd had to call his name a couple of times to get him to look up. Then, when she'd asked if everything was alright, he'd cleared his throat, offered a smile that was closer to a grimace, and then walked out the door without a word. That he'd left the door open was the only indication that he expected her to follow. That encounter had set the tone for their whole evening. They were supposed to be celebrating the fact that she got promoted at work with their friends. Instead, Jon had left her alone most of the night. She'd had to entertain both her friends and his, he'd refused to dance with her, and he'd acted for all the world like he couldn't stand to be seen with her. Sansa hasn't been this hurt and humiliated since Joffrey.

Joffrey had hated it when she wore high heels and he never hesitated to let her know it. At five-ten to his five-eleven, nearly every shoe she owned back then had made her look taller than him. Whenever they went out, he'd call her a giant freak or say she looked like a man. He told her that, more than once, people had mistaken her for a drag queen and called him gay (the word he used was “fag”) because of it. It was a long time before she felt comfortable enough to wear anything but flats after finally breaking up with Joffrey. She eventually made it to the point where she could wear anything she wanted without caring what anyone else thought, but right now, her self-esteem had really taken a beating.

Jon Snow, the man she loves more than anyone else in the world, made her feel like he was ashamed of her tonight. Sansa is hurt, and, more than that, she's furious. She hears his breathing pick up when they walk through the door to their apartment, and hers does the same. She braces herself for a fight and gets even angrier when he simply makes his way to the bedroom like he has no idea anything's wrong. She stares after him for a moment, incredulous, before she straightens her spine and stalks toward the bedroom. They're going to talk this out, damn it. She's going to make him understand how much he hurt her tonight, she thinks as she steps into the room.

She's dumbfounded when he grabs her face and drags her to him for a kiss that scorches her to the bone. She gasps, breathless and lightheaded, when he pulls away for a second, but before she can think well enough to ask what in hells is going on, his lips are on hers again. His usual finesse is gone, raw hunger taking its place. This is hot and wet and _filthy_ , and by the time he breaks the kiss to start mouthing at her neck, Sansa can feel wetness pooling between her legs.

“Jon...what?” she rasps. His mouth finds a particularly tender spot behind her ear, and her hands come up to grip his shoulders in an effort to keep upright. Faintly, she notices that he's standing on his toes.

“So...fucking...sexy, gods,” he growls in between kisses and bites. “Fuck, Sansa! Trying to kill me, I know it.”

“I don't...what?” Sansa murmurs, unable to string together a complete sentence under this kind of onslaught. He's supposed to be angry with her. Right? She's angry at him. Or was. She can't remember anymore.

Her half-formed thoughts evaporate when she feels his hands—hot and rough even through the fabric of her dress—slide down her sides and then back up to squeeze and caress her breasts, sending bolts of pleasure through her body. Her back connects with the wall, and her eyes—when had they closed?—fly open. They flutter shut again when he presses himself hard against her, his hands moving to grip her ass. She gasps when he rolls his hips slow and hard against her.

She wants to talk to him about something. What was it?!

Before she can remember, Jon is talking again, almost babbling. “All night—all fucking night—all I could think about was you pinning me down and riding me. How you could just shove me down and _take_ anything you wanted. My fingers, my cock. My tongue. _Especially_ my tongue, fuck, I want to taste you so bad. Let me. Please let me, Sansa.”

His pleading is making Sansa tremble violently, and she's pretty sure her panties are soaked. She wants to do _everything_ he said.

She doesn't know why she shoves him away.

It's not a light shove either. It sends him halfway across the room, right in the path of his discarded shoes. He stumbles over them and falls backward onto the bed, bracing himself on his elbows. He stares at her, his dark eyes wide and his pretty, kiss-swollen mouth agape. She stares right back, breathing hard. She wants to demand an explanation, to make him tell her why he's been acting so cold all night only to pounce on her now. What comes out instead, in a voice so low she's practically snarling, is:

“Take off your clothes.”

He scrambles to obey, fumbling at the buttons of his shirt. He only gets a few undone before he makes a frustrated noise and simply tears the shirt off, sending a spray of buttons to the floor and making Sansa's whole body jolt in surprise. He wrestles the ruined shirt off his shoulders and then hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his pants. Lifting his hips, he drags his pants and underwear down his legs and flings them away. Naked now, he's staring again, pupils blown wide and his mouth hanging open.

Sansa takes in the sight of him flushed and panting before her, his hard and leaking cock standing out dark red against his pale skin. She's never seen him so wrecked before, especially when they haven't really done anything, and it makes her knees weak. She reaches back and unzips her dress, the sound of the zipper strangely loud, and then takes hold of the neckline. She drags the dress down, shimmying a little when it gets stuck around her hips. A second later, the black fabric slides down her legs to the floor, leaving her in a strapless push-up bra, a black waist trainer, and black lace thong panties. And her six inch heels.

Jon lets out a broken moan at the sight of her, and the sound sends a jolt of heat through her blood. She needs to be naked _yesterday._ However, despite her own urgency, her movements remain slow and purposeful. The waist trainer comes off first, sliding down her hips before hitting the floor. She chances a look at Jon under her lashes, and she's pleased to see that he's watching her with rapt attention. Her lips curl into a smile seemingly of their own volition, and she allows the smile to form.

The bra is next, dropping to the floor once she's unhooked it. She palms her own breasts for a few seconds, squeezing them and pushing them up and together, and Jon makes another desperate noise. She gives her breasts another squeeze, enjoying the sensation, and then lets go, moving her fingers to her panties. She slowly pushes them down her hips, bending forward so her hands follow them down her legs. Even though she's been feeling it since she walked into the room, it still surprises her just how wet they are. In a fit of inspiration, she steps out of them and straightens, balling the panties up in one hand. She tosses them at Jon, and he quickly sits up to catch them, cursing when he feels how wet they are.

“Lay back down,” she orders. It comes out harsher than she means it to, but he doesn't seem to mind. He practically throws himself back onto the bed, lying flat with one hand clenched around her panties and the other gripping the bedspread under him. She steps out of the puddle of her dress, and she must have made a sound, because Jon's head snaps up so he can watch her. She strolls toward the bed, putting an extra swing in her hips that pulls a garbled sound from Jon's throat and makes him throw his head back again.

She stops inches from where his legs hang off the bed. Her gaze travels upward and focuses for a long time on his cock. She isn't sure how, but it looks even harder than it did before. Idly, she thinks it has to be painful by now. But Jon's been good. He hasn't touched himself at all. Instead, he waited for her. She wants to touch him, but she resists the urge. He said he wanted to taste her. She really wants him to. She'd pay attention to his cock later.

Regretfully, she pulls her gaze away from it to look at the rest of his body. His stomach is tense, making his abs stand out in harsh relief. His arms are the same, defining the lean muscles in them. After watching him for a second, she realizes that he's so tense that he's shaking. She considers touching him, but honestly, she doesn't know if that would make it better or worse, so she doesn't. Her gaze moves to his chest and finds it heaving, and suddenly, she hears just how harsh his breathing is. Her eyes flick up to his then, and something in her twists at the desperate look on his face.

She exhales shakily and falls forward, planting her hands on either side of Jon's torso, her sudden movement making him start violently. She's still not touching him, her body hovering a good four or five inches over his, but she can feel the heat radiating off his skin, and it makes her shiver a little. Slowly, she climbs onto the bed and begins to crawl over his prone body, taking care to touch him as little as possible. She stops when she's kneeling over his face and trembles at the feel of his harsh breaths against her cunt. She slides her fingers through his sweat-damp curls, and he purrs. Her fingers curl into a fist when they reach the back of his head, and she pulls him up to her by the hair, making his breath hitch.

“Make me come,” she whispers.

“Fuck,” he chokes out. And then his mouth is on her, working furiously. His hands come up to grip her hips, and he yanks her even closer. The movement makes her fall forward a little, startling a yelp out of her. She braces herself on one hand, while the other combs and tugs at his hair, gripping it tight when he does something she really likes. She keens when his tongue flicks over her clit, and she spreads her legs to bear down on him harder, _grinding_ at his face.

“Fuck!” she whimpered. “Jon, _yes_! Just like that.”

He groans against her, the vibrations of it making her feel like she's about to shake apart. She's so, _so_ close. Almost like he can read her thoughts, Jon adds his fingers to his assault, and Sansa soon comes with a wail.

She pulls her hand out of his hair and plants it on the bed beside the other one to keep herself upright. For several long moments, all she can do is pant. She soon feels Jon's thumbs stroking her hips, and she looks down to see how he's doing. He looks dazed, and his mouth is shining with her wetness. His tongue slowly trails over his lips, and the sight of it makes her pussy clench. She wants him inside her.

She backs up until she's straddling his stomach and her elbows are on either side of his head. She drops her mouth to his, licking her taste out of his mouth. Jon seems to feel even more dazed than she does, and for a few seconds, his kisses are barely more than quick pulls of lips. Soon enough though, his hands find their way into her hair, and the kisses become longer and more deliberate, stirring a fire in deep in her belly and making her squirm against him. She sits up and shoves herself back, mewling happily when she feels his rigid cock pressed against her ass. Grinning in anticipation, she pushes herself to her knees and reaches down, making him gasp when her hand closes around his cock. She cannot wait to have him in her. She positions him against her opening and then sinks down in a single, hard movement.

“Fuck!” Jon shouts in surprise, his hands coming up to grip her hips.

She braces her hands on his chest and wiggles a bit to adjust, making Jon curse again and grip her hips tight enough to bruise. Grinning again, she begins to ride him in earnest, setting a hard pace that draws another strangled sound out of his throat. Remembering some of what he talked about earlier, she puts her hands on his shoulders and pushes down hard, pinning him as best she can while she bounces on his cock.

“Gods, yes, Sansa!” He groans deep in his chest. “Fuck me!”

She soon feels the beginnings of another orgasm building inside her, and bears down on him even harder. She pulls her her hands away from his shoulders, dragging her nails down his chest, so she can brace herself better. She leaves dark pink welts behind, and the sting of it makes him growl. He shifts his hands so he can grip her ass, snapping his hips up to meet hers.

“I won't last much longer,” he gasps.

Nodding, Sansa moves her hand to where they're joined and begins rubbing harsh circles around her clit.

“Yes,” Jon rasps. “Touch yourself, sweet girl. Make yourself come...” He trails off with a strangled groan, his hips faltering and stuttering to a stop.

The sight of him falling apart makes Sansa rub herself even harder, and then she's coming too, letting out a high-pitched gasp as she flew apart. A second later, she simply falls forward, making Jon grunt when she lands on him. She nuzzles his neck and smiles when his hand comes up to stroke her spine. For a while, they lie like that, Jon's hand trailing slowly up and down her back, and Sansa occasionally kissing and nuzzling at his neck. At some point, she realizes that she's still wearing her heels, so she toes them off. Once that's done, she lifts her head and shifts a little so she can see Jon's face. He smiles fondly at her, and she melts a little inside. She is stupidly in love with this man.

She wants to be sure of something though.

“So, you liked the shoes, I take it?”

Jon bursts into breathless laughter. “Aye, I liked the shoes.”

“It was kind of hard to tell since you avoided me all night,” Sansa says, looking down her nose at him in reproach.

“I didn't mean to. It's just...” He trails off for a second, looking thoughtful, and then shakes his head. “Tonight was about celebrating your promotion, and I didn't think you'd appreciate it if I tossed you over my shoulder like a Wildling and carried you away from our friends.” He raises his eyebrows at her, and Sansa smiles slightly.

“I thought you were mad at me for wearing shoes that made me taller than you.”

“You've worn shoes that made you taller before,” Jon replies, puzzled.

“Yeah, but there's a difference between like, half an inch and being four whole inches taller.”

“I love you no matter how you look,” Jon says, and the way he says it makes it sound like he's stating a fact, like the sky is blue. The sky is blue, and he loves her no matter how she looks.

It makes Sansa smile. “I'll keep the heels.”

“Thank the gods.”

 


End file.
